


The Moon's Heart

by IchiBri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mune: Guardian of the Moon au, candle creature Shiro, injured Shiro, lunar faun Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiBri/pseuds/IchiBri
Summary: In the midst of saving the sun from being destroyed by Zarkon, Keith tries to stop Shiro from making the ultimate sacrifice. But as he's busy fighting, Shiro melts for the sake of the world, and Keith is left having to collect the wax in hopes of reshaping Shiro.





	The Moon's Heart

“Shiro, no!” Keith’s voice cracked, raspy and breaking on the echo.  His desperation cried through the lava and charred rock of the underworld, resounding like a firework exploding in the night sky, its rumble spreading across the land.

Shiro stood before the dying sun, the wax of his body warming beside the embers of the star.  He glowed–light brightening his skin where it broke through the blackened crust forming on the sun, like magma cooling and hardening to rock.  His gaze trailed across the cascading lava and the protruding path of stone until they fell upon Keith’s soft purple fur.

“I have to,” Shiro said, his voice surely drowned out by the chaos of the fight–the bellows of the traitorous ex-sun guardian Zarkon and the thunder of the giant’s boulderous stomps, each one a hairsbreadth from crushing the life from Keith’s lungs.

“Shiro!  Please, no!”  Keith rolled out of Zarkon’s path, his fur catching on cracks in the jagged bedrock.  “You’ll melt!”

Keith’s chest heaved with each sharp intake of air.  He scurried on all fours, zigging between Zarkon’s crushing steps.  The ground quaked beneath the pads of his paws as he raced up the stone path.  He leapt at the edge, launching himself over the bubbling lava below for the shelf of the next jutted rock.

Shiro was neither the guardian of the sun or the moon.  He didn’t have to die for Keith’s mistake, didn’t have to melt to protect the harmony of their planet.  That was Keith’s duty–a duty he didn’t ask for, a duty he didn’t want, but one he accepted nonetheless.

Keith, the guardian of the moon.  It had a ring to it that felt foreign on his tongue.  He didn’t train for this job, didn’t study the stars or the latitude at which the moon traveled.  He didn’t know how to steer the moon temple–how the music of the strings told the mighty beast the moon’s path to walk.  And it was his ineptitude that led to the sun guardian having to leave the sun temple and help chase down the moon, leaving the sun unprotected against the possessive envy of Zarkon of the underworld.

Their planet was cast in darkness.  The moon wouldn’t hang in the sky without the sun, and Keith had to rectify his mistake.  He had to make it to Shiro–a candle creature of dusk and dawn, one who knew the moon’s path and studied the stars out of sheer love for the constellations.  Shiro froze in the coldness of night, melted in the heat of day, and yet he raced through shadows and ran by the warmth of a torch to help a ratty lunar faun lasso the moon.  Keith didn’t deserve that kindness, but it was freely given to him.

Zarkon’s magmatic claws closed around Keith’s ankle.  They seared the soft fur, and Keith cried out at the heat.  But in Keith’s eyes raged a greater fire–one that scorched through his veins and had his heart hammering a mile a minute.  The faun curled in on Zarkon’s grasp, teeth gnashing into the monster’s skin of charred stone.  He kicked and scratched and bit every expanse of hardened flesh until the bitterness of charcoal coated his tongue.

A deep, booming cackle grated Keith’s eardrums.  Lava splattered from Zarkon’s mouth with each heave of a guffaw.  “Not even a rat!” the monster boomed.  “Ants have more of a bite than you!”  With a casual flick of his arm, Zarkon threw Keith over his shoulder.

Keith collided with the face of stone.  His back hit hard, and the faun crumpled in on himself as he fell to the ground.  He coughed a wet, sputtered breath and lifted his head enough to find Shiro.

“No…” he weakly said, reaching an arm out to the candle creature, but their distance was far too great for his fingers to close.

Shiro offered Keith one last curve of his lips–a smile so tender Keith’s heart ached at the sight–before blowing the breath of life into the blackened sun.

Embers ignited and sparked.  The tiny flames danced beneath the crust of the sun, a few leaping forth from growing cracks.  The glow of the heat cast light upon Shiro’s face, and his cheeks warmed past the point of comfort.  But even as the forelock of his hair drooped further down his forehead and the wax of his cheeks sagged into heavy jowls, it wasn’t enough.

Shiro drew in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to capacity.  In his peripheral, he saw the lava spewing from Zarkon’s mouth in threats to his life, but either way, his end was near.  And Shiro would much rather go down fighting than die knowing he held the breath that could restore the harmony to their planet.

The air left his lips in a steady stream.  Sparks slowly fizzled, their orange glow breaking through the sun’s charred crust in growing fissures.  The cracks split open, and pieces of the singed shell fell away.  With Shiro’s final gust of breath, the sun ignited with vigor.  Its licks of fire burned away the blackened ash, the dust fizzling to streams of smoke.  Wispy curls of heat and gas undulated outward from the sun’s core, its strength growing until it lifted from its rest in the groove of rocks.

But as the sun rose in the sky–floating higher and higher to break through the barrier of the underworld–Shiro sunk lower.  He melted, legs and arms dripping to the stone, body sinking to the ground as he hadn’t the strength nor stability to hold himself upright.

“No!”  Ignoring every ache to his body, Keith clambered to his feet.  “No!  No, no…”  Each cry grew softer in volume until the word was a mere breath on his lips, incoherent and inaudible through his gasps.

Zarkon’s tumultuous steps shook the ground beneath Keith’s paws.  The traitorous monster lumbered through the lava streams and rivers in a straight path for the drifting sun.  The burning magma spewed upon the stone as Zarkon’s weight displaced it.  It sizzled and seared all it touched, charring the hardy weeds and pooling in puddles of fire upon the ground.

Keith’s vision darted ahead of Zarkon’s steps and frantically traced his sloshing path.  The melted wax of Shiro lay in his way; and as Zarkon’s leg raised from the lava to find purchase in the cliffside, Keith’s blood ran hot.  It boiled in his veins when he watched the splatters of searing magma land far too close to what remained of Shiro.  Zarkon heaved his massive weight higher and pulled his torso up to the shelf of rock where Shiro lay.

Something within Keith snapped.  Like a string wound too tight, it broke with an echo in his ears.  His paws pounded against the stone as he ran, and he jumped from the edge with no thought of where he may land.  His mind locked onto Shiro–his vision on the lava dribbling from the cracks in Zarkon’s back.  The wind ruffled his fur, and the fluff of his ears were pinned flat against his hair.  The tension coiled tighter and _tighter_ , pressure building from his core until it erupted–racing down the lengths of his outstretched arms and shooting from his fingertips in glowing purple dust.

It glimmered and shined in its path to the back of Zarkon’s skull.  When the powdery sparks hit him, Zarkon jerked forward and lost his footing.  He slid further down the cliffside, one giant rock hand slipping in its grasp and falling to his side.

Keith latched onto that hand.  Even as the radiating heat burned the pads of his paws, he scrambled up Zarkon’s arm and leapt for the rock shelf above.  He landed with a rough slide and skidded to a stop.  His head swiveled back to stare over the cliff, eyes wide and wild and shining with something akin to hope.

He stood straighter, lifting his hands to stare at the pads of his palms.  Him being chosen as the moon guardian was a mistake, that Keith had always been sure of.  He didn’t have the magic of giving life or sprouting seeds in a single night.  He couldn’t light up the darkness with the luminescence of his touch.  His fingers couldn’t strum the tune of the moon or lull a restless child to sleep.

No, all he did was give pleasant dreams to those lost in nightmares.  And maybe now, he could see how lighting a path through the darkness for someone in their most vulnerable of states was a worthy gift for a guardian of the moon.  Maybe the moon’s emissary was correct in its decision.  No, not maybe.  It was correct, and Keith would finally prove it.

Zarkon snarled at Keith, lava flying like spit through the air.  Droplets seared the fur of Keith’s toes, and an acrid bitter scent mingled in the air.  But Keith neither dodged nor patted the embers scorching his abdomen.  He let them sizzle at the tips of his fur, turning the soft purple to burnt black.

His gaze locked with the empty eyes of Zarkon.  In them, he saw nothing but a void of fire–unchecked anger and rage that boiled and seared rationality.

Keith outstretched his arms.  His fingers splayed wide, and bursts of dream sand shot from their tips.  The softly glowing dust rained down upon Zarkon in steady streams.  Zarkon’s grip on the cliff wavered with each new wave that crashed into him.  He tipped further back, his claws desperately raking along the stone.

But as Zarkon’s mouth fell open to spew more boiling threats, he froze.  The boulders of his body ceased all motion, and the amber void of his eyes drained to black.  His claws slowly scratched along the rock, each jerk piercing to the ears, until there was no more rock to scrape.  Slowly, his massive form fell backward.

Waves of magma spilled from the river below when Zarkon’s body slammed into the surface.  He rocked and bobbed with the viscous liquid as he slowly sank lower into the depths.  Bubbles of air broke through the lava, drops splattering into the cliffside.  With one last echoing squelch, the magma swallowed the traitor whole.

Keith held his breath for only a moment as he stared at the gently flowing river.  But when Zarkon didn’t burst forth with a vengeance, the air left his lungs in a shaky sigh.  His shoulders hunched forward as he turned for Shiro.

Smile weary, Keith knelt low beside the cooling puddles of wax.  He couldn’t make out an arm from a leg.  All that remained intact was the portrait of Shiro’s face–sunken and drooped, eyes half-lidden and lips parted with no breath.

Keith’s hand reached to touch, fingers curling in hesitation, before he closed the distance and caressed the smooth waves of Shiro’s cheek.  “Let’s get you home,” he said, the words a mere whisper upon his lips.

***

The sun hung in the sky once more.  Anchored by chains, it floated behind its temple to cast the warmth of its rays upon their planet.  All was well in the world.  All was as it should be.

Except Keith didn’t return the moon to the sky.  Under the darkness of his half of the planet, he tied the moon beside a slab of stone.  Its soft blue glow illuminated the tiny tendrils of wispy flowers in the meadow around him.  The light ended at the circles of trees, beyond their branches the still darkness of night.

An altar to worship the stars above–the sun, the moon, and the space in which they hang–but Keith spread the soft wax of Shiro’s body upon the stone surface as if it was an average worktable in a shop.  The moon would forgive him, for if he couldn’t mold life back into Shiro’s body, then he’d offer Shiro to the stars and let him return to that from which they all came.

By the soft warmth of the moon, Shiro’s wax remained malleable.  Each smooth press of Keith’s fingers sculpted flesh, shaping and forming with the utmost care and precision.  He built Shiro’s flattened core back into thick muscles and broad shoulders, smoothed the seam where shoulders connected to the neck.  His thumb trailed down the left arm, dipping to line the crease in the elbow before continuing to the wrist.  Fingers were rolled and joints lined before each was attached with a gentle and deft touch.

Keith worked his way down Shiro’s torso.  He lithely hopped atop the altar, and on his knees, he stooped over Shiro’s body.  The pads of his paws softly kneaded the wax into the curve of hips.  With both hands, Keith pulled and pushed the thick wax of his legs until thighs lengthened into the bend of knees.  He smoothed down the calves and ankles, each brush of his hands wiping away imperfections.

He slid from the altar when his eyes rose back to Shiro’s other arm.  The wax pooled in its place wasn’t enough.  Keith knew that when he collected it off the rock of the underworld, and he knew it now too.  But it was all that remained, so with a touch far gentler than any other, he molded the wax at the shoulder.  Each downward pull lengthened the arm, but the wax didn’t reach the elbow.  With a quiet breath and a softened gaze, Keith rounded the stump and moved on.

The warmth of the moon cast a blueish glow upon Shiro’s face.  Shadows danced across cheeks as Keith shaped the jaw–lines strong and broad.  A claw dipped to define the line of Shiro’s lips.  Fingers pinched to form the nose, the pads smoothing outward from the bridge.  Two careful swipes of his claws sharpened Shiro’s eyes, and he swept the tips of bangs out of Shiro’s vision.

Should he awaken, Keith wanted the renewed harmony of the sky to be the first thing Shiro saw.  And should he not, well, Keith didn’t want to think about that.

He stood for a long moment staring at the prone candle creature.  Was the hair right?  Did he capture the curiosity of Shiro’s eyes and the wonderment of his lips?  Would Shiro’s fingers feel just as smooth upon his fur, or were there cracks and knobs in the wax?  Were his ears symmetrical?  Would he stand straight, or would his hips forever ache from mismatched leg lengths?  Would his joints bend properly, or would he suffer the stiffness of a cold dreary night even during the warmth of day?

Would he forgive Keith for his right arm?

The lunar faun shook the thoughts from his head.  He reached for the string that tethered the moon, but paused for one last final touch.  With a quiet snap, he broke off the bottom tip of the crescent moon.  The shard glowed in his palm.

Keith cupped the back of Shiro’s hand, raising it to rest on Shiro’s chest.  He set the piece of the moon in Shiro’s palm and gently closed the fingers around it.

When he turned from the small meadow with the moon trailing behind him, Keith glanced back over his shoulder only once.

Keith returned to the moon temple.  The giant hooved creature remained in the same spot Keith left it, quietly lying in the grass.  It tipped its head at Keith’s arrival, its long neck beautifully arched.  On all fours, Keith scrambled up its leg to the temple nestled in the hump of its back.

The fuzzy spiders which spun the thread for the moon and its harp were waiting for Keith.  They skittered and bounced with excitement when the glow of the moon shone upon the temple’s tiles.  One of them jumped for the moon, crawling around its middle in fast circles as thread trailed its path.  When it hopped back to the ground, Keith released the moon.  Together, they watched it float into the night sky and rejoin the twinkling stars.

Keith tied the moon’s thread to the temple.  With deft fingers, he plucked strings of the harp.  Each resounding ting created a melody that had the creature of the moon temple standing and walking along a set path.

He journeyed out of the temple and climbed up the creature’s long neck.  When he reached the head, Keith rubbed the feathery fur at the crease of its ears.  Then he stood tall–cool wind against his cheeks.  And if he looked behind them, he could see the dim blue glow of the meadow altar.

***

The candle creature lay stiff and rigid, not a flicker to his eyes.  His wax–warmed by the shard of the moon–had a faint tint of color to its creamy tone.  But the moon wasn’t enough to restore what once was.  For harmony, it required two.

The darkness of night traveled with the moon temple.  It receded upon the land as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon.  The temple of boulders and stone–a giant earth beast brought to life–hauled the sun behind it by thick chains unburnable by the heat and radiation.  The sun’s light inched across the land.  Plants tipped their faces to the warmth and bathed in what they had been deprived.

Shiro lay still on the slab.  The sun’s orange glow crept closer, its wispy fingers reaching across the blades of grass.  It climbed the stone until the light of day touched Shiro’s toes.  It crawled up his body in a lazy stream, bringing warmth and flexibility to the wax.

When the light hit the shard of the moon, a brilliant blue radiance shined like popping sparks of fire.  The glow burst outward before its gleam soaked into Shiro’s chest.  The very moon melted and dripped between fingers, seeping into the flesh of wax.

A golden color brightened Shiro’s pale skin.  It spread from his core in waves.  A twitch of a toe, a flutter of lashes, a quiet breath through lips; each accompanied the flush of warmth.

Shiro drew a knee up as his head tipped to the side.  Cheek pressed against cool stone, his eyes blinked away the blur of unconsciousness.

A beautiful blue sky with the swirling puffs of clouds hung above him.  The sun shone down, yet his skin didn’t melt beneath the rays.  On the contrary, he felt a pulsing coolness radiating from his chest.  His gaze tipped down, and at the embedded glow of the moon beside his heart, he gasped–quiet, yet it resounded in the meadow around him.

He smiled, the curve of his lips tender.  “Keith,” he said, the name a mere whisper on his tongue.

Shiro stood.  He walked, and then he ran.  Not an ache or a knot to be felt, but he didn’t miss the change in weight.  His arms swung uneven, but with what could’ve been lost, it was a small sacrifice to make.

When he crossed the boundary of day and night, Shiro ran for the moon.  Even as the coldness settled over him, it didn’t stick to his limbs.  His joints bent freely with every stride.  With the subtle warmth of the moon emitting from his chest, he tossed his head back and laughed into the wind.

A whole new world opened up to him.  No more slinking in the shadows of day or wandering by torchlight at night.  Hardening to the state of a statue would be a thing of the past, and nothing less than touching the sun itself would melt his wax.

Shiro ran, faster and faster with each pound of his feet upon the ground.  The long, lanky strides of the moon temple carried the moon through the sky, and Shiro followed its light.  A gentle quake rumbled through the earth with every step as Shiro drew closer to the creature.  It towered over him, its shadow blocking the glow of the moon.

Air puffed from his lips in wispy fog as he darted past each gangly leg.  Shiro followed the incline of the land and raced to the top of the grassy peak.  “Keith!” he shouted, the name a pounding ache in his chest, as he frantically waved his hand in the air.

The fuzz of Keith’s ears twitched.  They swiveled and pricked at the call.  His gaze turned to the left, and upon the grassy knoll, he saw the faint blue glow of the moon within Shiro’s chest.  A quiet gasp on his lips, Keith’s violet eyes shined with the budding moisture at their edges.

Keith bent low, never looking away from Shiro’s sweeping wave, and gently patted the temple creature’s flat head.  “Please,” he whispered.

A low bellow resounded in the night as the creature rounded its path.  It straightened for the knoll as Keith scratched his fingers through its feathery fur.  When Keith stood, he padded to the tip of the creature’s beak.  He relished in the steady stream of air against his cheeks as the creature lowered its head to the hill.

Keith’s ears drooped forward and his gaze lowered to the short space between the beak and the knoll.  It was a space he couldn’t cross, no matter how easy a jump it would be.  For the moon guardian must stay with the moon, even if the glow of Shiro’s chest called him home.

Violet eyes slowly rose to peer through the blur of tears and lashes, but they widened at Shiro’s movement.  One slow step–not an ounce of hesitation–brought Shiro closer to the edge.  Shiro’s lips softly upturned when Keith’s watery eyes finally met his, and he leapt across the space.

Keith caught him with open arms.  They entangled each other in a close embrace, and the warmth of the moon in Shiro’s chest seeped into Keith’s core, blossoming like a flower of spring.  As the temple creature raised it head, Shiro lowered his until his forehead rested against Keith’s.  He peered through long lashes, watching Keith’s lips upturn into a breathy smile.

They leaned forward as if one, lips brushing hesitantly at first before deepening with each desperate caress of a hand in soft fur and claws lightly raking through the textured wax at Shiro’s nape.  Between them, their hearts warmed with the cozy heat of the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me @ichibri on tumblr & twitter


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